Unexpected Phantom
by I'm-Not-So-Sweet
Summary: What if the Erik was the beautiful dancer, and Christine the dark and sinister Phantom?
1. Chapter 1

**Unexpected Phantom**

What if the Phantom was a woman, and Erik the dancer was the object of her dark plans?

Disclaimer – I obviously don't own Phantom of the Opera, this is just a fanfic made for all POTO fans. I am not (unfortunately) making any money from it.

Hey guys this is my first fanfic, please R and R so I can improve!

"Hurry for goodness' sake! We can't be late, not again!" Two young boys rushed through the winding back corridors of the enormous Opera Populaire, expertly dodging props and other obstructions, as they had done day upon day, for years. The larger boy ran in front, his dirty, messy blonde mop of hair tangling as he ran, brown eyes sparkling in the excitement. The smaller, younger boy followed, and though he had fewer muscles than his companion, he kept pace far more easily, almost dancing round the corners with a grace the blonde did not possess. His gleaming, thick black curls bounced on his head, and his golden eyes gleamed with mirth and intelligence. "Mark, how can I possibly hurry when you run at the pace of a snail?" the younger enquired with a teasing smile, "Oh shut up Erik, you know full well you can barely keep up with me!" Mark retaliated, giving two passing ballet girls a saucy wink. Erik grinned, and as the boys rounded the final corner he leapt up, pushed off the side of a plaster cast horse in the hallway, and landed neatly in front of Mark. Before the humiliated boy had time to react, they had stumbled onto the main stage, where almost all the Opera's acting, singing and dancing workforce were gathered to rehearse the latest show, _Robert le Diable. _

Slinking through the maze of costumes and half-finished props, Erik and Mark attempted to smoothly take a place at the back of the dancing group; however this plan backfired when the eagle-eyed dance mistress, Madame Giry, spotted the pair. "You two! Erik and Markus! Come here!" she barked, causing the entire group to turn and face the poor souls that Giry would crucify. Faces burning, they made their way to stand before her. "And just WHAT did you think you were doing hmm?" She intoned, her face so close to hers they could smell her vile breath. Her hair was pulled back so tightly that a vein throbbed in her forehead, and she carried a cane with which she was known to hit her dancers. It was now tapping quietly on the floor, "Well? You are late. How dare you! For the third time this month, you two are late!" she dealt them both a sharp whack across the head with her deadly cane, "If you are so confident with the dance that you feel you may be late to MY LESSON then you can lead it!" she hissed with a smirk, and she stood back to watch what she was sure to be a disaster. Erik, spurred to prove her wrong, launched himself into the dance with passion and precision, spinning from one move to the next with flawless grace. The other male and female dancers tried to keep up, but only a few could match his skill. When he finally settled into the finishing pose, Giry gave four short claps, to signal her pleasure. This was the highest compliment she ever gave. Erik and Mark, who had been able to keep up with Erik, gave satisfied smirks, and threw themselves into the dance for the next hour.

The dancers were utterly absorbed in their own world until a vile noise cut into their bubble of ballet, and all the stage turned to observe what was surely another temper tantrum, from the Opera's leading male singer, Piangi. Like a fat peacock he strutted about the stage, barking orders like a child, leering at the slutty girls who clamoured and fought for his attention and his bed. "I wonder what's wrong with the squealing pig this time" wondered Mark's attractive dancing partner, Meg, as she rested on Mark's arm. Occasionally Erik wondered if there was more in the relationship of the pretty blonde Meg, Madame Giry's only daughter, and his friend, but he always dismissed the rumours he heard, for he knew Mark would always tell him the truth, for they were the best of friends. Piangi was complaining, "... and my costume, it is too tight, look at it, it is making me look fat, it is the wrong colour, and it is has too few jewels, and..." "Good grief, does the man never shut up?" Erik muttered, gaining an appreciative snort from the dancing class. Little did they know, the stage was being watched...

A shadowy figure passed above them, observing Piangi as he whined and stamped. A white mask gleamed atop a figure otherwise clothed in black, leather gloved hands gripping the ropes, a sinister character, balanced like a monkey, high above the light. A cascade of thick black hair fell around the mask, snaking around the face of the woman who bent downwards, to gaze at the scene below. Suddenly, the woman rose, and silently slunk away into the dark ceilings from whence it came...


	2. Chapter 2

**Unexpected Phantom**

I'm only just realising how hard this is going to be to write! I have NO idea how I am going to write some of the scenes, particularly the boat scene and the final Phantom and Christine (Obviously It's now Erik and the Phantom ) scene, where I don't know how I am going to ensure Erik doesn't become a girl!

Disclaimer – I don't own Phantom of the Opera, and I'm not making money off this. It's just for fun.

Please R and R, this is my first fanfic!

The group of weary dancers trudged down the halls, feet aching from hours of torturous work. Even Erik felt as though his feet were on fire, to say nothing of the less competent members. However, despite the fact they were all clearly ready to drop and sleep right there on the worn wooden floor, Erik broke off from the main group headed to the dormitories, and made his way down a darkened corridor.

Pushing his way past dusty, disused hanging costumes and rusted pieces of stage machinery, he wound down a maze of wooden passages. Eventually he stopped outside an inconspicuous door, rubbed the dust from his face and silently entered. It was a disused dressing room, with white sheets covering the furniture and paintings on the walls. But there were clear signs that someone had been in there recently, as the sheets that covered the chaise longue and largest wall hanging were clean and dust-free.

With a flourish Erik removed both the aforementioned sheets, showing the wall hanging to be a large, full-length mirror. No sooner had he done so, than a beautiful Voice began to fill the room. Erik's breath caught in his throat, and he let the music wash over him. Golden and pure, the gorgeous soprano Voice cradled him in a tender embrace. In a trace, Erik whispered, "Ange... Mon Ange..."

The singing ceased with a haunting high note, and Erik slowly opened his eyes, and raised them to the heavens. "Erik, are you ready for your lesson?" the Voice seemed to come from all around him, bathing him in its blissful light. "I am, Angel" he sighed reverently. The Voice took on a more commanding tone, "Then begin from the first solo by Robert" slightly puzzled, Erik enquired, "But, Ange... I do not have the lead role, that belongs to..." "SILENCE!" The Voice commanded, cutting off his protestations, the air prickled with a sudden tension in the room. The Voice softened, "You will leave such small details to me. I will ensure that the fat pig is not singing on opening night", it gave a soft, seemingly sinister chuckle, and flowing piano music issued from the walls. Erik launched himself into the solo with a passion not seen in the world beyond the dressing room. Softly, the Voice accompanied him, filling him with love and joy. The music they made came from Paradise itself. The Voice corrected him now and again, and two hours flew by. Erik forgot how tired he was, and forgot the pain in his limbs. He let the music sweep him away.

When he awoke the next morning, he could not recall how he reached the dormitory, nor how long he had sung for. In the harsh morning light, all he could think of was his hidden Angel, his inspiration, his life, and his savior. He could almost recall the day he first heard that divine sound...


	3. Chapter 3

**Unexpected Phantom**

Disclaimer – I do not own Phantom, and I'm not making money off this (sigh)

Hey I'm gonna try to write more than I have been (I'm on a train!)

_Erik ran through the snow, being half dragged by the formidable Madame Giry. He stumbled once or twice on his small 6 year-olds legs, and pulled the scarf that was far too large for him around his face. He wore that scarf for two reasons. One was because it was the only scarf he owned, and the other was that is smelt of musk and ink... his father's smell. _

_The child had to suppress a sob at the thought of his father, and Madame Giry, glancing down, felt a twinge of pity. She pulled Erik through a small side-door, and bent to his eye level. "Now Erik, from now on you will live here, and train to be a dancer, as your father wanted" she explained. The boy did not say a word. _

_Later that day, after Giry had led him to the dormitory, Erik fell onto the tiny, hard bunk that was his. He curled up in the thin blankets, cuddling the faded blue scarf to himself. Soon the child slept, oblivious to the world._

_He awoke in the night, the moonlight that seeped from the ragged curtains dimly illuminating the forms of two rows of sleeping boys. Erik's face was wet from tears, and he wiped them on the back of his dirty hand. He rose hesitantly, his feet cold on the rough floor, and tiptoed out of the room. _

_Erik went down stairs, and up them, round corners and down corridors. He had been attempting to find Madame Giry, but soon found himself hopelessly lost. He began to sob uncontrollably, his tears making tiny marks on the dusty floor. He sat down with a bump on the floor and wailed his fear and misery to the unfeeling wooden walls of the Opera House. _

_He did not know how long he cried for, but after a time a Voice enquired, "Why are you weeping, boy" Erik looked around tearfully, but could not find its source. Something in it calmed him, for he was able to whisper, "I'm lost, and my father is dead". There was a silence from the Voice, and all that could be heard were Erik's hiccups. Eventually the Voice replied, "Do not cry child, for I will care for you" Erik nodded, entranced by the lyrical sound that echoed around him. "Are... are you the Angel of Music?" he enquired timidly, littleg mouth agape with astonishment, "Fath... father promised to send the Angel of Music to me when he reached Heaven...". After a time, the Voice replied, "Yes, I am your Angel of Music. You need never be alone, for I am with you." Erik felt his heart lift, and he began to softly sing an old tune his father had taught him. The Voice was silent, listening to the sweet tune he sang. When he was finished, the Voice crooned, "Your voice is beautiful boy, but I will make it great! I will come to you tomorrow as you sleep, and we will go to a place where I can teach you." The boy smiled, but gave an almighty yawn. The Voice began to sing to him, a sweet lullaby that washed over him and lulled him to sleep on a cradle of song. A shadow dropped silently from above, and picked up the sleeping child in its arms. It took him back to the dormitories, and laid him gently in his bed. It brushed his soft cheek with a cold finger, and then was gone._

_The next day Erik awoke, unsure if it had been a dream. If that had been a dream, then the day that followed was surely a nightmare. All day he was shouted at, to move, to stand still, to listen, to learn. It was all he could do to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. Finally night fell, and Erik was so exhausted he fell onto his bunk fully clothed and slept like a log. He was not undisturbed. A shadow came creeping into the room, and stole the young child from his bed. _

_When Erik awoke, he was on the chaise longue in the dressing room that he was to meet his Angel in from then on. He rubbed his eyes, and jumped at the sound of the Voice "My dear boy, shall we start with your scales?" Erik leapt up, fully awake now, and launched into his exercises with vigour. The Voice corrected him now and then, and they sang a small tune together, though Erik had to fight the urge to drop to his knees and sing hosannas that the Angel had really, really come to him! _

_Like almost all their meetings, Erik did not remember how he reached his bed after his lesson. As he dressed in the cool morning light, he smiled secretly to himself, for his soul felt somehow... lighter...._


End file.
